


water under the bridge

by soldierwitch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierwitch/pseuds/soldierwitch
Summary: post-5x05. Clarke avoids. Bellamy confronts. Things are complicated and feelings are too much.





	water under the bridge

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished this one. I'm happy with it for the most part. Getting into Bellamy and Clarke's headspaces for this season is an interesting challenge. They're both fundamentally the same and yet so different thanks to the six year time jump, so there's an awkwardness that feels necessary to their reactions. An awkwardness and an inability to really say what they want to say to each other, so this fic is my crack at getting communication lines open and beginning their new footing with each other. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title from Water Under the Bridge (cover) by Sara Stone
> 
> If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently  
> Don't pretend that you don't want me  
> Our love ain't water under the bridge  
> If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently  
> Don't pretend that you don't want me  
> Our love ain't water under the bridge  
> Say that our love ain't water under the bridge
> 
> What are you waiting for?  
> You never seem to make it through the door  
> And who are you hiding from?  
> It ain't no life to live like you're on the run  
> Have I ever asked for much?  
> The only thing that I want is your love

Clarke knows what spite feels like. She’s felt it twist through her veins and sully her heart. This isn’t spite, but it’s no less ugly. She’s been ready to snap at everyone. It’s taken everything in her not to be short with her words or to bite them off at the ends. She’s even noticed her hands shaking with nerves now and again. It’s stupid. Ridiculous really. What did she expect? Six years have passed. It doesn’t make sense to feel blindsided by something that was inevitable. Bellamy loves, it’s what he does, it’s who he is. Of course he’d fall in love in space. That’s reasonable. Six years that’s...that’s plenty of time to forgive. Time enough to find common ground, to soften, to connect. It shouldn’t be surprising. It really shouldn’t.

_Then why do I feel like this_ , Clarke asks herself before softly growling in frustration. She shuts the lid of the medkit she was restocking with more force than necessary, her finger catches in the latch. With a hiss, she snatches the digit back and sucks on the sore flesh.

“You making enemies of containers now?”

Clarke startles, her head whips to the entrance of the medbay. 

Bellamy is leaning against the door jamb. A bemused smile sits on his lips.

There’s a familiar verbal dance she knows she should be participating in at the moment. A witty pattern of communication. A tête-à-tête. But his hair is beginning to fall into his face and his eyes are so warm. She’s hit with a fresh wave of missing him, a deep ache that hasn’t gone away despite him being home for approximately 96 hours. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy asks, the warmth of his eyes shifting to concern. He unfolds his arms and takes a step forward.

She blinks and then wills herself not to redden. With a shaky hand, she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and stands up. “No enemies here,” she says not looking at him as she puts the medkit back. “Just persnickety boxes.”

Bellamy laughs. It’s a small huff of a thing that still manages to rattle Clarke. She’s made him laugh six times since his return. She’s been counting which is just…

Clarke shakes her head and turns around. She gives him a small smile before putting her hands in the pockets of her jacket and tries not to notice the distance between them. “I better go check on Madi.”

When his eyes light up at the child’s name, Clarke struggles not to let the action steal her breath. That’s the exact look she imagined he’d have after meeting her daughter. If nothing else has been how she thought it would be once he came home at least that stayed the same.

“Brave kid,” Bellamy says.

“The bravest,” she replies.

They don’t say anything after that exchange. Clarke gets a bit fidgety in the following moments before she exhales and says, “Right. So, I’ll talk to you later.”

Bellamy clears his throat and steps out of the way, his hand goes to the back of his neck to rub at the skin there. “Yeah. Yeah. Yes.”

Clarke smiles to herself as she makes her way down the hallway; she, however, does not keep her word on seeing him later. 

Three days go by before she talks to Bellamy on her own and it only happens because he catches her by the wrist and pulls her into an empty room, the door closes behind them.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Clarke replies after an awkward pause. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Clarke looks down and away, fidgets with her sleeve. “Yeah.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No, I’m not,” Clarke says defensively. “I just saw you this morning.”

“To go over strategy with Octavia.”

“So?”

“Don’t do this,” Bellamy says.

“Do what?”

“Shut me out.”

Clarke wants to protest. She hasn’t been avoiding him. They were together this morning, yesterday afternoon, and the morning before that. They’ve talked. All of it has been impersonal, but she’s spoken to him. It’s not like she _has_ to eat with him and the others. She has no interest in sparring. There’s really no need to pretend like they aren’t in the middle of a war. There’s been no down time. Between the death toll rising and Octavia’s increasingly paranoid tactics to maintain law and order, they’ve been busy. That’s all. So she tells him that and he immediately calls bullshit.

She imagines his reaction would be what a firecracker looks like let loose in an empty room. Bellamy fizzes and sparks right before her eyes as he lists off the many ways she's managed to shirk him.

“You leave the room first,” he says like that's a problem. “You find some excuse to exit whenever I so much as pass a doorway. If we’re not discussing logistics, you turn into fucking smoke and disappear.”

Clarke opens her mouth to crack a joke, to diffuse the tension, but what comes out is, “If you need someone to talk to, Bellamy, there are plenty of people you can do that with that aren't me. A plethora of people, in fact. An entire bunker of people.” That comment was meant to stay in the box labeled 'Not Meant for Out Loud Conversation’ but alas.

Bellamy doesn't reel back. Instead he leans forward with his hands on his hips in that way that she hates because it feels like she's about to be treated to a lecture on her behavior. Like she's a child in need of scolding.

“I don't want to talk to a bunker full of my sister's crazed fanatics.”

“Then go talk to your friends.” 

“Our friends,” he says, emphasis on _ours_ as if she, too, has spent over half a decade with them instead of 11 months off and on in the middle of several wars and hundreds of deaths at her own hands. Yeah, their her friends, but their his _friends_. It's different.

“The point still stands, Bellamy.”

“No, the point, Clarke, is that I want to talk to _you_. I spent six years thinking you were dead. I just want to--”

“Well,” she says. “I spent six years alone.” Her sentence lands like a dead fish between them. Cold and lifeless just plopped in the middle of their heated argument bringing it to a squelching halt.

“You said you had Madi,” Bellamy says after swallowing. His hands fall from his hips.

“I do,” Clarke replies. _But I didn't have you_ , is left unsaid. She thought she did but then he came down and the differences in him made her realize that she had cast him in amber. And though she could see glimpses of the boy she knew, he was not the man before her.

She continues. “I just meant that I'm used to being by myself. Now I'm constantly surrounded by people. I'm adjusting.”

“That's all this is,” Bellamy asks, his voice small and unsure.

Clarke hates that she's made him sound like that. She has never, ever wanted him to sound so lost. “Yes,” she says, looking to the right of his shoulder rather than holding his gaze. “That's all this is.” 

And if that sounds like a lie that's because it is one. Bellamy doesn't find out how much of a lie it is until two nights later when he catches Clarke slipping a letter beneath his door like the coward he's never known her to be. She has a pack on her shoulder and when she turns and sees him, she mutters, “Shit,” under her breath.

“Going somewhere,” he asks, folding his arms. He's been doing that a lot lately. Between his sister, Echo, and Clarke it feels like he's had to defend every position he’s taken in the last few days. It makes sense that his posture would follow suit but still it's starting to irritate him. Bellamy's been back on Earth for a week and already his body is starting to lose the loose, carefree feel that it had in space.

“Yes,” she says but does not elaborate, so he asks the stupid question. The one he knows he's not going to get an answer to based on the hard set, emotionless mask on Clarke's face. But still he can’t help but ask, “Where?”

“Doesn't matter.”

He laughs. Six years and it's the same shit. A war is on, people are dying around him, and Clarke is leaving.

“I have to do what's best for Madi,” Clarke says once again not looking at him because she hasn't fucking maintained eye contact with him for more than a few seconds since she reunited with everyone. 

“And that's running?”

Clarke doesn't answer.

“God fucking dammit,” Bellamy says, feeling the tears gather in his eyes. “Will you please just say something?”

“I'm sorry,” she says as she goes to walk by him. Not goodbye. Not may we meet again. But an apology as if those are the words he wants to hear from her as she walks out of his life again.

“Is this what I should expect from you now,” he asks.

Clarke stops right by his shoulder. She takes a small, but sharp gasp in, so he pushes.

“I've known you to be cold, Clarke, but I’ve never known you to be heartless.” _Until now_ hangs in the silence, but Bellamy knows she heard it because she looks like she's been slapped. Color rises high on her cheeks and when she turns to him, she says, “Fuck you, Bellamy,” with more emotion than he’s heard from her in days.

“You don't get to do this,” Clarke says jabbing him in the shoulder with her finger. “You don't get to make me feel bad for doing right by my kid.”

He grabs her hand. “Whatever this is right now, it's not about Madi.”

“Like hell it's not,” she says snatching her hand out of his grip. It's quick like a whip and new. The last time Clarke pulled away from his touch was at the dropship before they became allies, then partners, then…

“Why are you doing this,” Bellamy asks, interrupting his own train of thought.

“I told you--”

“No,” he says shaking his head. “Not why you're leaving. I get that. You're not the only one who’s seen the way Gaia looks at Madi. I mean _how_ you’re leaving. You really think sneaking off is the right way to go about this?”

“I’m trying not to catch Octavia’s attention,” Clarke grits. “So the less people that know the better.”

“I’m not _people_.”

Clarke shakes her head and backs up, Bellamy immediately follows, filling the distance. 

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist my words. You know exactly what I mean. And I was going to tell you.”

“Right. The letter. Because that’s how we’ve always said goodbye, with pieces of paper.”

Watching Clarke in this moment is unnerving for Bellamy. He’s never seen her look so cagey and so uncertain of herself. She won’t look at him, and though he’s seen her cry before, he’s never seen her fight so hard to not show him what she’s feeling. They’re barely inches apart and it feels like she’s already down the hall with her back turned walking away from him. So, Bellamy reaches a hand out and cradles her face.

Her eyes raise to his, and it’s his turn to gasp. “Clarke--”

“You have to let me go, Bellamy.”

He looks down and swallows, drops his hand. “You slip through my fingers like water, Clarke,” he says. “You’re asking me to let go of something I’ve never been able to hold.”

And it’s that simple truth that manages to make her crack. A sob breaks from Clarke so sharp that it startles Bellamy. He reaches for her, but she waves him off and curls in on herself, arms going around her middle like they’re the only things holding her together. "It's the only way," she whispers.

"No," Bellamy says with a sniff, his arms around himself, too, defiant in contrast to Clarke. "You could have asked me to come with you."

Her eyes snap to his then, shot with red, they are wide and a little panicked. "No, I couldn't have. That's...that's not an option."

"Right," he scoffs. "Of course not. Why would that ever be an option for you? You don't need me, Clarke." _But I need you_.

"That's not true."

Bellamy nods, but he doesn’t believe her. He looks away before looking back at her. A tear escapes from his eye, but he doesn't wipe it. "Why is leaving so easy for you?"

"You think this is easy for me," Clarke asks, incredulous, sounding like a dam break. Her face is splotched pink, tears are tracking down her cheeks in rivulets. Bellamy thinks that this must be what heartache looks like but it doesn't change anything. Her hands are still held tight to the strap of her pack.

“Yes,” Bellamy says. “Because I left you and it nearly…,” he trails off thinking about the pain he buried deep within himself, a room in his mind he would only go to when he desperately needed her. Clarke was who he leaned on when he felt weak and not having her anymore meant not having the one person he wanted to share the burden with when things got hard. Relying on the others was different from being supported by her. He’s been vulnerable, scared, and angry with all of them, especially Echo, but he’s never felt entirely understood. Clarke had a way of speaking or just looking at him that made him feel seen. After losing her and then getting her back, he can’t imagine walking away from her ever again. “But you...you can slip a letter under my door and disappear. What does that say about us, Clarke?” _To me, it says I don’t know you like I thought I did. That you don’t see me the way that I see you._

"It says that you're needed here, and I’m not."

"When have you ever not been needed?" 

"Since you left. Since you thought I died, and you moved on," Clarke says, the words piercing through him because he hears what she isn’t saying: _You_ don’t need me.

Bellamy takes a step back. Several days have passed since they reunited, and he can think of very few moments where he wasn’t looking for her or to her or trying to stay by her side. He needed her when he left her, and he needs her now. There’s no world in which he doesn’t need Clarke Griffin, and if she doesn’t know that then somewhere along the line he told her different. Or showed her different and that horrifies him.

“No, Bellamy,” she says, stepping forward to close the distance. “No...I’m not…”

“Clarke, you said--”

“I know.”

“I asked you.”

“I know,” Clarke says wiping at her tears.

“Why?”

She gives him a watery, sad smile. “You built a family. You were so happy. I didn’t want to…,” she trails off to take a breath and then tries again. “I have Madi, and you have people who count on you. Who _love_ you. And I complicate things and things are so complicated already. It’s better this way. You can concentrate on Echo and Octavia, and I can focus on Madi--”

"And you just get to decide that,” Bellamy asks, hurt and frustrated and angry at himself, at this situation, and at Clarke which is the last thing he wants to be and yet....“You just get to walk out without a word because things are _complicated_?”

"Yes,” Clarke says. “I do when my kid’s involved. It’s not just us anymore.”

“It’s never been just us, Clarke. Stop hiding behind Madi.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Bellamy--”

“No,” he says, “If you’re leaving, the least you can do is tell me the truth. Be honest with me. Why are you doing this?”

“Bellamy--”

“Why are you doing this, Clarke?”

“Because I have to,” she says firmly, the words falling from her mouth with more force than he’s prepared for. “Because what I need takes a backseat to Madi’s safety.”

“And what do you need?”

Clarke laughs, it’s brittle. “Same thing I’ve needed for six years, Bellamy.”

And he hears it then, the silent _you_. 

The world fades. 

Bellamy hears the whisper of his name from her lips, feels the warmth of her body close, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s not until she takes a step back that he reacts. His hand grabs hers.

“Ask me,” he says.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t have a choice. I’m giving you one. Ask me.”

“But you--”

“ _Ask_ me.”

Bellamy sees the moment Clarke stops warring with herself and gives in. The wall falls and with it, she asks, voice hoarse and timid, “Come with me?”

“Okay.”

She blinks and looks a bit dazed, so Bellamy says it again. “Okay.”

Clarke doesn’t come back to herself until he’s steering them back to his room. “What about the others,” she stutters.

“They’ll come, too,” he says after opening the door and bending down to pick up her letter. There’s a part of him that wants to keep it. Clarke did address it to him after all, but it was a goodbye letter and there’s no use keeping something that will never fulfill its purpose.

Bellamy hands Clarke the letter and turns to grab his pack. He misses the fall of her shoulders in relief and the haste with which she puts the letter in her jacket pocket.

“But you haven’t asked them,” she says after clearing her throat.

He shrugs. “Where one of us goes the others go,” he says, grabbing Echo’s pack, too. “We’re family, Clarke, we stick together.”

“But I’m the one who’s leaving.”

“And you’re family,” Bellamy says simply, shouldering both bags. “Now what’s the plan?”

“You tell me.”

Bellamy smiles. “How about we figure it out together?”

Clarke nods and returns his smile. “Together.”

They make their way down the hallway--heads bent toward each other, hearts not quite aligned but getting there--discussing a plan to get everyone they love out of the bunker without bringing too much attention to themselves.

Clarke's fingers rub over the letter in her pocket the whole time Bellamy's talking.

 

_Bellamy,_

_By the time you read this Madi and I will be gone. I’m sorry for leaving a letter as a goodbye, but seeing you would have made this harder. In the six years that I imagined your return, I never thought we’d run out of time. There’s a part of me that feels like I should have known. Time has never been our friend, and it seems I’ve wasted what little we had. There are so many things I wish I’d taken the chance to tell you before leaving, but I didn’t know how to say them. I still don’t, but I’m going to try._

_Bellamy, I want you to know that I love you. Years may go by--years have gone by--and that will always remain true. I am proud of the man you’ve become, and I am happy for you and the family you found with the others. I wish I could tell you this myself. I wish I were someone who could let her heart speak for itself, but I’m not. Six years hasn't changed that but it has changed us. I have a daughter to protect now. Someone who’s counting on me the way that you and I used to count on each other. She has to come first._

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

_May we meet again._

_-Clarke_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated. If you'd like to drop me a line or a prompt, you can find me @ [asoldierwitch](https://asoldierwitch.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr.


End file.
